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... Rhea's door open, the creak of hinges slicing the stillness like a blade. Morning light clawed through the boarded slits, painting jagged shadows on the gray tiles. Rhea prowled her cage—crimson hair a wild snarl, ash-streaked and spilling over her creased leather jacket. The collar hummed, a dull shackle on her fire, but her amber eyes flicked to him—wary, not venomous, a crack in her armor widening since yesterday's storm.
"You're back," she rasped, voice raw, like she'd wrestled night ...
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